After another hour without any sign, they reached a ridge overlooking the wide expanse of a lake. Gray, choppy water flowed to distant shores. Trees carpeted the hilly ground as far as the eye could see until mountains rose to meet the clouds. Ben carefully sipped water, aware that they’d run out soon. He passed the bottle to Jason and peered around.
“This is the farthest point the trail goes. At the end of this ridge over there, it loops back toward the parking lot.” Coughing again, his throat raw, he examined the terrain to their left. The mountain was far too steep to scale without equipment. Brown was a survivalist, but did he have ropes and crampons? It was possible, but highly implausible to attempt it with Maggie. Peering up, Ben couldn’t see anyone, although fog obscured the higher peaks.
Maybe he tossed her over the side.
A fist around his heart, he edged to the railing and squinted down for any sign of her red poncho. In the mist he couldn’t see all the way to the ground hundreds of feet below. He pulled out his binoculars, but there was still nothing but green and brown through the patches of fog, the forest standing sentinel as always.
Ben cleared his throat, taking another sip of water. “I don’t think he’d head left. Too steep, and Whitefish is to the east. He wants away from there. South will take us back toward the trailhead and roads. To go north, he’d have to get down off this mountain first. West is the only way that makes sense. It’s the way I’d go if I were him. Off the trails.”
Nodding, Jason followed Ben along the ridge. They stopped where the trail looped back to their right. Ben had hoped desperately to have heard helicopters overhead by now, but there was only the rustle of leaves and the distant tapping of a woodpecker.
The land sloped, but leveled off again after fifty feet. Ben wasn’t much of a tracker, but he eyed the bush for signs that someone had recently passed through. With Jason on his heels, he led the way, careful on the muddy ground. Wet branches and leaves slapped their faces, and Ben squinted for footprints.
There!
Adrenaline zipping through him, he skidded down, boots squelching in the mud. At the bottom of the slope, he bent low. It was a heel print. No doubt.
Jason clutched Ben’s shoulder, his voice sharp. “Look!” Ben straightened and stared carefully into the bush ahead of them where Jason pointed. When he saw it, his heart leapt and they ran over.
Red.
Jason plucked the torn strip of red fabric from the mud with trembling fingers. “It’s from the lining of her coat. I’m sure of it.”
Maggie was a bright kid, and there was no doubt she knew the story of Hansel and Gretel. Ben nodded. “Breadcrumbs.”
Without another word, they rushed on, deeper into the heart of the endless forest.
CHAPTER SIX
Jason shivered as he squinted through the fading gray light, scanning the undergrowth for a sign of red. They’d found two more scraps of material as the hours had ticked by relentlessly.
His adrenaline high had crashed, and they’d slowed to a walk, too exhausted to run and afraid they’d miss Maggie’s trail. One word echoed through him with every ragged beat of his heart.
Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.
He prayed they’d find them and then…
Then what?
Harlan Brown was still armed. They’d be stuck in the same situation they’d been before, but Jason had to go after her and hope they could get the upper hand. Hope he could tackle Brown and get Maggie away from him. It was all he could do.
Hope.
A fresh burst of primal panic clawed his gut. Maggie was scared and she needed him. He had to find her. Couldn’t just sit back and wait. He’d go crazy.
“You okay?” Ben’s low voice beside him soothed some of the jagged edges of Jason’s terror like water over a rock. At least Jason wasn’t alone. He nodded, but Ben added, “Sorry. Stupid question.”
As Ben rubbed his red eyes, Jason asked quietly, “Does it still hurt?”
“Getting better. How does it look? Swelling feels like it’s going down.”
Jason nodded. “You’re not coughing much now either.”
“Yeah. Took more antihistamines and some ibuprofen. We need to find water.”
Jason nodded and they continued on. They’d half-filled Ben’s two bottles with rainwater during a short downpour, but it wouldn’t last long. Had to stay hydrated and alert. Had to be the best he could be.
What kind of father am I?
In his life, Jason thought he’d known fear and pain. Grief. Amy’s round face filled his mind, her joyful bark of a laugh ringing in his ears. But he’d lost his best friend years ago, and it paled in comparison to the horror that gripped him now. He took a shuddering breath, fighting back a sob.